


the first time

by zauberer_sirin



Series: #CousyComfort [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: CousyComfort, Director Daisy Johnson, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Future Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-23 16:40:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14336679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/pseuds/zauberer_sirin
Summary: As long as she can come back to this, Daisy thinks she can handle it.Written for the #CousyComfort challenge at johnsonandcoulson.com





	the first time

A couple of candles here and there. The ones in a little glass, because those are safer, and once they had a conversation about how nervous it made Daisy to see romantic scenes in movies where someone have put dozens of candles in the bedroom, it’s not romantic, she argued, just a fire hazard, and back when she was living in a van - where that kind of crap wasn’t even possible - it just made her feel alienated, seeing those movies.

She counts four candles in their room - two on the table. Two plates, and she can smell the pasta sauce from their little ensuite kitchen. Daisy freezes, as much as she appreciates what Coulson is trying to do, suddenly the idea seems too much.

He notices her reaction.

“Don’t worry, it’s just a little dinner for two, I know you’re tired,” Coulson says.

The hand on her shoulder. It’s familiar, and yet Daisy feels like it’s been days since he last touched her. She wishes she could feel it better, through the layers of cloth and exhaustion and plain self-pity.

“I’m running you a bath first, come here.”

It feels good to just follow his orders, his voice, his hands, as he guides her towards the sound of water.

“How was it?” he asks when they step into the bathroom and she can see it on his face that he regrets the question immediately, what a stupid question.

He grabs the shoulders of her jacket and starts slipping it off her. Daisy had begun to think that wasn’t possible, that she and the black suit were one, that it fused with her skin at some point of this horrible day trip.

She shrugs under his hands. “I had never done this before, you’ve done this many times,” she says.

“It doesn’t get any easier if that’s what you were going to ask,” Coulson tells her. He’s gentle, but never one to sugarcoat things. He never told her this would be easy, just that she was the right person for the job.

His fingers work the zip of her pants, Daisy mechanically stepping out of them, leaning against Coulson’s shoulder for balance. There’s something so familiar in the way he helps her undress, something that makes so much sense; it’s hard for Daisy to remember they weren’t always like this, they didn’t have this intimacy. They had love between them, some kind of love anyway, but not all the other stuff. For years, they were nothing like this. It’s weird, like that belongs to a different life. In a way it does.

“No,” she says. “I didn’t expect it ever would.”

“The first time though…” he says. “It’s…”

“Unreal?”

He nods, undoing the first button of her shirt.

“That’s the word,” he tells her. His expression tells her that he is remembering his first time doing this kind of trip and for a moment Daisy breaks free from her own thoughts and wonders how many times Coulson did this himself, and how he probably didn’t have anyone to run a hot bath for him, and run warm hands over his body like this. “Sorry,” Coulson adds. “I should have been there with you.”

Daisy shakes her head and touches the front of his shirt lightly.

“I needed you here,” she reminds him. “There was so much to take care of, I couldn’t have focused on what I had to do, if I didn’t know you were back home taking care of it.”

Coulson takes off her shirt and folds it very carefully, placing it on top of the stack of extra towels. His movements are slower than usual, so careful, like he’s trying hard not to disturb something in the air.

“Still, I wish I could have been there,” he tells her, turning her around so he can undo the straps of her bra.

“Of course.”

“Large family?” he asks.

“Yeah. Four sisters,” Daisy answers, remembering each face on the photograph Agent Conte’s mother showed her. “A lovely family.”

Now she’s naked, and Coulson runs a comforting hand along the length of her arm.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he says. You can always count on him saying that, Daisy thinks, a bit somber. Feeling a bit ungrateful and unworthy at the same time. “When you make the calls, this is bound to happen sooner or later.”

“Your first time,” Daisy says, taking a towel and sitting on the white stool next to bathtub - it’s a luxury, they know, the bathtub,but it’s an old base again, and though they normally use the communal showers Coulson likes having this luxury. “Did you go alone?”

He nods. “I was young. I thought it would be proof that I was ready for the responsibility. I thought it’d make me feel braver.”

“And did it?”

This time he shakes his head.

“No. I cried the whole plane ride home.”

She smiles a bit at his tone, though the mental image upsets her. It makes her curious, too. She wonders how Coulson was when he was young, what kind of agent, what kind of leader. The way he tells it, it sounds like he was younger than she is now the first time he had to knock on a parent’s door to tell them their daughter or son had been killed on the field.

“I didn’t cry,” she tells him. “I haven’t cried.”

Coulson sits by her side, on the rim of the bathtub. He pushes her hair past her shoulders very meticulously, like it’s a very important task. Daisy feels his fingers on her skin for the first time - she was too numb while he was undressing her.

“That’s okay, too,” he says.

His words start having an effect - they can’t erase her feeling of having failed, of having let people down, but just hearing his voice, his tone, it helps. It selfish that they make her feel better, but they do. She takes a deep breath, finally daring to do so. She notices the pink tone of the water in the bathtub, the white foam forming over the pink. She finally notices the sweet smell of berries and citrus. Her senses are coming back to her, one by one.

“You’re letting me borrow your bubbles?” she asks Coulson. “Wow.”

“I thought it might help,” he says, touching the back of her neck. “But don’t get used to it.”

She chuckles a bit, weakly, but she does. She has teased him endlessly about his love of bubble baths (which, granted, he rarely has time and occasion to put into practice), and though she’s more a 5-minute shower person, for obvious reasons, she admits it has its advantages.

“Thank you, Phil,” she says, touching Coulson’s cheek.

“I’ll leave you to it,” he tells her, standing up. She grabs his wrist, craving a bit more of his touch. “I suspect you haven’t had much time for yourself during the trip.”

“Not really.”

Coulson takes her hand and gently disentangles her fingers from his arm.

“Take your time,” he says. “Dinner will be ready when you finish.”

She calls after him as he reaches the door.

“Thank you for the bubbles,” she says, and Coulson turns around, smiles at her. “And for…”

She gestures, unable to put what he does for her into words. She hasn’t really been able to do that, not ever since they met and Coulson started doing… this. For her.

“Anytime, boss,” he says.

He closes the door behind him, leaving Daisy among the warmth, the smell of sweet bubbles, his kindness, his familiar way of making sucky situations a little less sucky for her. It won’t get any easier, he’s right about that, but as long as she can come back to this Daisy thinks she can handle it.


End file.
